29. Maksim

29

MAKSIM

M y finger hooks over the trigger of my gun as I push the door to the secluded home open, my eyes roaming the entryway. The safety is off. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing.

It's safe to say that something is wrong.

My car is parked in the driveway with the keys still in it. In plain sight. All evening I've been searching for Elira, and now she decides to leave my car in plain sight? It isn't even that she has the cover of night or a property outside the city. She wouldn't be this careless, not when she's still hiding from me with her phone off.

I step inside, swinging the gun behind the door in case someone's waiting for me there, and when I see the empty corner, I face forward and creep into the living room.

Her name is perched on my tongue, but I don't yell it out. Not yet.

A sound comes from a room to my left, and I turn to move that way, my gun steady in front of me. A few more steps, and it happens again, more coherent this time.

A whimper.

Elira .

Resisting the urge to run that way, I creep past her phone on the ground toward the room the sound came from and prepare myself to fire at whatever is causing her to make that sound.

With a quick stride, I swing myself into the kitchen, gun first and point it at a woman holding a knife to Elira's throat. Tape covers her mouth.

When my eyes find Anya, I stiffen.

It was her whimper.

My gaze moving to the woman with the knife, I barely keep my finger from squeezing the trigger. That knife is lined up right against Elira's carotid, the same cut that ended Daniel's life. One move of this woman's hand and Elira is dead.

Even if I hadn't seen a photo of the woman, I wouldn't need to guess who this is.

"Drop it," I snarl, taking another step into the room.

Anya's whimpering gets loud, and I don't have time to wonder about it before a barrel presses between my shoulder blades.

"You first," a feminine voice says, sounding unworried.

Not a chance.

"You have no idea the trouble you've just caused yourself, Henrietta," I say, struggling to keep my voice even. Elira is covered in blood. It seeps through gashes throughout her body, and it's all I can do not to home in on it, not to show its effect on me. If Henrietta had any idea what I would do if I got my hands on her, her partner would shoot me in the head immediately. "Your husband isn't worth the things the Petrov Bratva will do to you if you don't put that knife down right this second."

"How about you put your gun down before I blow your fucking brains out." The woman behind me sounds angry now. She jabs the back of my neck with the barrel, making my jaw clench.

"You shoot me, I shoot Henrietta, she slices Elira's neck. Congratulations, you're a lone survivor."

"Sounds like a good deal to me," she says, sounding deadly serious.

I feel my own brows pinch, but the look of surprise on Henrietta's face is unmatchable. She recovers, blinking away the betrayal, and opens her mouth to speak, but the other woman interrupts.

"You're kind of right, though. It does mess up my plan to make you suffer." The gun leaves my neck, and I feel her take a step back. "How about I shoot Anya first?"

Anya's eyes widen with fear, mirroring the horror-stricken expression that's surely on my own face, and I quickly raise my hands, my gun pointing to the ceiling.

"Good boy," the woman coos. "Empty the clip and toss it."

Swallowing, I obey the command, my emptied gun thumping across the room.

She taps my back with the barrel. "On your knees, handsome."

"Let them go." I flinch as Henrietta rips the tape off Elira's mouth and finally allow myself to take in her injuries.

My legs fold as I lower to my knees while inspecting Anya. She looks uninjured. Tanner… He's a corpse that they've dragged off to the side of the room, as if proving what they're capable of.

"Why the hell would I do that after all the trouble it took to get you all here?" Henrietta asks, matter-of-fact.

"Why would we do that?" the woman with the gun corrects.

Henrietta looks like she wants to roll her eyes, but she's hesitant. She looks back at me. "We weren't expecting to have you, Maksim. I was hoping you would have found them here, mutilated beyond recognition, and blamed it on the boy you seemed to hate so much. I went through all the trouble to secure a solid alibi and everything."

"You put a hit on Elira's family, you bitch. I was already looking for you."

Her eyebrows raise. She looks between me and Elira.

She had no idea how much Elira means to me .

I may have just fucked up. Not that things could get much worse.

"Are you in love with your whore ?" The woman behind me laughs.

Henrietta smiles. "That's … sweet." Her eyes move to Anya. "Is it because you know what it's like to be a whore, Maksim? Were you Anya's mother's whore? She looks an awful lot like you. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are blood related, just not brother and sister."

My hands tremble with rage before I clench them into fists. I don't know who I'm angrier for, Anya or Elizabeth. " Shut up ."

"Tell your sister the truth," Henrietta snaps. "Tell her who she is to you."

"She knows who she is to me."

"Liar," the woman behind me sneers. She presses the barrel up against the back of my head and bends to hiss in my ear. "Tell her what her parents did to you."

I'm quiet for a moment while I stare at an anguished, scared Anya. This is nothing but a cruel game to these women. Nothing but a show. This doesn't even have to do with Elira. Isn't even a punishment for me.

They're demanding I unlock secrets I've kept Anya's entire life to protect her, all so she can suffer before they put a bullet in her head to get on to the main event.

I'm going to kill them for this. I don't know how I'll do it yet, but I'll do it.

In the meantime… I have to keep them talking.

"You really want to know?"

Anya cringes like I've raised a fist to her, and after letting out a muffled cry, she nods.

"Your parents gave me you. That's what they did to me. That's all that matters. I wouldn't change it for anything."

The woman growls, unhappy with my response. "You wouldn't change it for anything ?"

I don't hesitate. "No."

"Let's test that," Henrietta says, her face brightening. She nods at Anya. "Choose who dies first. Your sister or your love."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Sister it is." The gun leaves my head, and I turn to watch it point at Anya.

"Stop." I reach for it, but the woman yanks it back.

" Choose ."

I face forward, my heart hammering in my chest. My brain doesn't even consider this a choice. Instead, it works to find a weapon, a solution, something to stop this.

I have to stop this.

"Who's it going to be, Maksim?" Henrietta asks, the knife firm against Elira's throat.

Neither.

Neither.

Neither.

I can't say. I won't say.

Weapon?

Solution?

Help?

Panic morphs into fear which morphs into sorrow as I lock eyes with Anya. The fear I feel is magnified on her face.

My little sister.

The girl who hid behind my legs when strangers approached. Who fell asleep on my chest while watching cartoons. Who sought safety in my arms for months after her parents died, plagued by nightmares.

I am this girl's protector.

And Elira.

When I look at her, it's a new kind of heartbreak. She doesn't look at me with fear, but with a stern, brave expression that is a kick to the gut.

When I look at her, I see things I didn't know I should be looking for. I see a life together. A home to share, secrets I no longer have to keep. I see love. I see her . I see something remarkably irreplaceable and a mark on my heart that could never be erased.

"I love you," I tell her, a tear slipping from my eye for the first time since my mother told me the words scrolled across my chest.

She closes her eyes as her own tears fall. "I know. It's okay. Just do it."

" Now ," the woman behind me growls.

I wait. I keep waiting. It isn't until the gun points at Anya again that my answer, the one I will hate myself forever for, is ripped from my throat.

"Elira."

No one is surprised. The two women are pleased. Even so, it feels like a silence takes over the room for a moment. Things feel sluggish.

I watch the knife in shame, waiting for Henrietta to move, not allowing myself the mercy of looking away.

She doesn't slice Elira's carotid. Her lips spread in a pleased smile as she moves the knife to Elira's collarbone and slices.

I narrow my eyes, but it takes me only a moment to react.

She must not realize it. She must believe she's already won, must've gotten too cocky.

Because with the knife no longer at Elira's throat and the gun on me, they just lost their leverage.

I jerk my head to the side while snatching the gun at the same time and twisting it in the woman's hand. It fires over Elira's cry just to the right of my head, but once it's in my control, I don't even take the time to scan for injuries. I point at Henrietta and fire.

She ducks behind Elira's chair, using her as a shield, but by the scream she lets out, I can tell I hit her.

The other woman growls and jumps at me, but all it takes is an elbow to her jaw to send her flying to the floor. I glance to see her out cold before I walk to Henrietta.

She whimpers and scoots away from Elira's chair, knife shaking in her grasp as she weakly points it at me while using her other hand to cover the bullet wound in her stomach.

I want to take my time with her. Wrap my hands around her neck. Use her own knife on her. I want to be as sick as she is, make her feel the pain she's made Elira feel.

But Anya and Elira need me. And sometimes you just have to finish the job.

I point the gun at Henrietta's head and pull the trigger, allowing myself only a moment to stare at her dead eyes before grabbing the knife and going to Elira.

"Anya first," she says when I go to cut her bindings.

I look down at the blood covering her, and if it weren't for the silence, I would think I'd been shot in the chest.

"It's okay," she says, her voice low. "The cuts aren't deep."

I swallow as I look at her, caressing her jaw and planting a quick kiss to her forehead before going to Anya.

I cut the rope around Anya's wrists first then go around to cut her ankles free, but she rips the tape off her mouth and pulls me against her.

I wrap my arms around her and shut my eyes as she cries onto my shoulder, unleashing more heartache than one person should ever feel. More heartache than I ever thought I'd allow her to feel.

"You're safe," I say, hugging her close.

"I swear, I'll never leave again. I'm so sorry."

She's sorry?

"Anya…" I sigh, ready to correct her, but Elira's gasp runs my train of thought off its track.

"Maksim!"

Before I can pull back, a gun goes off and someone falls on top of me.

My arms around Anya flex as I look over my shoulder at Henrietta's partner on my back. I buck her off before turning around and facing Alik standing in the entryway, gun in hand.

He gestures to the knife on the floor at my feet that must've fallen out of the bitch's grasp when he shot her.

"Good thing you had backup," he says, emotionless.

I close my eyes and sigh before nodding my thanks.

Why is the little shit always right?

One side of his lips lifts in a smirk as he walks to retrieve the knife, then he goes to help Elira. I finish with Anya's ankles before taking his place.

"You're going to be okay," I say to her, inspecting the cuts as I lay her on the carpet. She winces but doesn't protest.

When she looks away from me, it's like a fresh wave of pain comes over her. "The hit was on my family."

I busy myself studying her wounds to avoid her eyes. "I know. But they're safe. They were hiding in a root cellar when our guys found them."

I feel her gaze shoot to me, but it's still hard to look.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

This is all my fault.

"We found the hitman," Alik pipes in. "He's been handled. Your family is safe."

She lets out a long sigh that ends on a sob, and now I have no choice but to look at her.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, rightfully ashamed. "Elira, I never would have intentionally put your family in danger."

She nods like she understands, and when she looks at Anya, guilt crosses her expression. "I'm sorry too."

I follow her gaze. Anya is staring at Tanner, but when she feels us looking at her, she comes to us and drops to her knees. Elira sits up and puts her arm around her, painful as it may be, and I do the same.

We lock eyes, each of us exchanging the guilt we feel.

In the end, it doesn't matter. We're alive, all of us. We're going to be okay.

I love you , she mouths to me, then smiles like my expression amuses her.

I love you too .

We sit for a few more minutes before loading up in the back of Alik's car and driving far away from the house Henrietta rented for the occasion.

When we're back home and Elira is stitched up—courtesy of Zinovy—I sit down next to her on my bed, my heart in my throat. After everything, I didn't know I was capable of more fear.

"Tomorrow, I will get you your plane to Albania," I say to Elira, taking her hand. "If you can wait until then."

She stares up at the ceiling like she's lost in her head. "I've been thinking about that."

I clear my throat. "Oh?"

"I'm anxious to see my family and prefer not to wait another day."

I nod my understanding and start to get up to make the call, my anxiety about her never coming back a fist in my chest.

"And before you offer, I don't want you to come with me. You'll be far too busy here."

I pause, my gut roiling as I sit back down and stare at her. "I'm not too busy to go with you."

"Yes, you are."

"Busy with what?"

Finally, she looks at me. "You need to convince the rest of your brothers to embrace Anthony. Albanian weddings are a big deal, and I'm not letting some petty feud gain more attention than my very expensive dress."

I don't realize my eyes are narrowed until they soften, and my mouth opens.

Her lips quirk.

"What?" I ask because I'm at a loss for words.

Her face starts to fall, but before it can, I open my mouth again.

"I mean, I… Are you saying you want to get married?"

She shrugs shyly. "We've been fake married for a while now. I just thought… I mean…"

"Elira Martin."

She closes her mouth as I take her hand.

This isn't how I would've done this. I would've bought a ring. I would've reserved the nicest table at the finest restaurant in Vegas. I would've done … more.

But somehow, this is better. If we waited another day, it would never be the same.

"Will you marry me?"

She bites her lip as if she's trying to fight a smile when she nods, and then she reaches over to the nightstand and pulls a diamond ring from the drawer. It isn't the same one as before. This one is…

Jesus Christ.

"We already have a ring," she offers with an amused grin.

I take it and chuck it across the room, then shake my head while slowly inching my lips closer to hers. "You're a fucking lunatic."

Her teeth shine with a smile as her eyes close. "But you love it."

Yeah. Yeah, I kind of do.